A Con Knows A Con
by RareReality
Summary: Our heroes investigate a Chrysalis "breeding centre" and Darien gets captured, but all is not as it seems. PG Only for very mild language. My first attempt at fanfic!
1. Status Report

Hi everybody! This is my first attempt at writing fan fiction! Please review it and tell me if I should continue it. RR.  
  
****************************************  
  
"I'm not liking this. I'm not liking this one bit, Hobbes."  
  
"Just keep going, partner. I got a feeling about this place."  
  
"Yeah, so do I, and it's not a good one."  
  
Darien crept silently through the corridor, passing the little piles of faded green paint that had peeled off the walls and now decorated the threadbare blue carpet.  
  
"Haven't I told you about doing that?"  
  
"Doing what?" the invisible figure inquired into his mic. Hobbes reached forward and grabbed the paper bag in the front seat of the van, pulling out a chocolate doughnut.  
  
"Doubting my sources. HobbesNet is very reliable, my friend. In fact, if you would just-"  
  
"Shhhh.. Someone's coming."  
  
Darien pressed himself against the wall and watched as the two men in suits strode down the corridor before disappearing around the corner. He breathed a sigh of relief and continued his search through the dilapidated hotel.  
  
******************* Early That Morning *******************  
  
"Yeah, so I wake up right, and there's this huge spider sitting on my hand. So of course I."  
  
The door to the keep swished open and in walked Hobbes. Claire and Darien looked up at the sound of their friend entering and smiled.  
  
"Hey Hobbesy. I was just telling the Keep here about that spider I found yesterd."  
  
"C'mon, lets go. I got a big tip about a Chrysalis operation downtown that I wanna go check out."  
  
"Really? What is it?" Darien asked, immediately interested.  
  
"I'll tell you on the way. See ya later Claire."  
  
They got to the van and Darien went to open the driver's side. Hobbes stopped and looked at him with a questioning look. Darien noticed it and looked at him.  
  
"Whadaya think you're doing?" Bobby asked the tall man.  
  
"I'm driving, Hobbesy."  
  
"No you're not."  
  
"Awwww. come on. You always get to drive."  
  
"Yeah, there's a reason for that. This is my van."  
  
"Uhh. correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't this The Agency's van?"  
  
"Look, do you know where we're going? No. So get in the other side, gland- boy."  
  
Fawkes put on a exaggerated look of disappointment and sighed with mock long-suffering.  
  
"No fair.."  
  
Hobbes smiled with satisfaction. As soon as the were on the road he began.  
  
"Good. Now, about this operation."  
  
Darien sat up and listened.  
  
"You remember how Chrysalis would recruit infertile couples to produce their children and would then snatch the babies away when they were born?"  
  
Darien nodded.  
  
"Well they've decided to try new methods. The place we're heading to is The Albergo, a rundown hotel on the East side that until recently was thought to be abandoned. Well, I've gotten an anonymous tip that Chrysalis is using the place to hold women giving birth to kiddie Chrysali."  
  
Darien look over at his partner is disbelief.  
  
"What, like a breeding centre?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
Darien shook his head.  
  
"But why? I mean, the old system seemed to be working just fine."  
  
Hobbes shrugged.  
  
"Less risky I suppose. They know for sure that they are gonna get the kid. The women can pop 'em out one after another and they don't have a police investigation popping up every time a baby goes missing. They probably get the women off the streets, you know, homeless, runaways, etc. People who probably won't be missed."  
  
"How do you know all this?"  
  
"I don't," Hobbes replied, "That's why you are gonna go in and give us a little status report."  
  
**********************************************************  
  
Darien came to the end of the hallway where it joined another, identical if not for the brown, wooden doors that lined either side of the corridor. He stuck his neck out and checked either side for people, before turning left and continuing his search of the place. He stopped at room 46 when he heard faint sobbing. He gently placed his ear against the cool wood and listened. His eyes were drawn to the peep hole which just didn't look quite right, when he noticed that it was the wrong way around. He tilted his head and looked through.  
  
The room was decorated in much the same way as the rest of the hotel, except that it had salmon-coloured peeling paint instead of the hospital green. The window and a door leading to the adjoining room had both been boarded up and many of the furnishings looked well past their prime. Sitting on the small bed in the corner was a woman.  
  
"Fawkes, getting awfully quiet there. Everything all right? Fawkes??"  
  
"Yeah, Hobbes. Hold on a sec. I've found one of the women. I'm gonna try and talk to her."  
  
The short, bald man's eyes widened as he sat in the van.  
  
"Oh no you don't, partner, we're here gathering info, not strolling around making small talk."  
  
Darien pulled out his lock picks.  
  
"What do you think I'm doing? Getting info." "Fawkes, don't ignore me. I want you outta there in one, big, invisible piece, dammit."  
  
Darien felt the last little click as the lock turned and the door swung open. Immediately the woman's head shot up, flinging back dark brown hair to reveal piercing green eyes, that searched the entrance for any sign of her captors. She watched in amazement as the door gently closed itself as if shut by a ghost. A few beats passed before she felt a cold chill and searched for its source. Suddenly a shower of silver flakes rained down accompanied by a gentle tinkling sound and she came face to face with a fairly young and strikingly handsome man. She screamed.  
  
Darien flinched before covering her mouth and pressing her back against the wall.  
  
"Shhh! Shhhh.. I'm here to help you! Stop screaming!"  
  
The woman stopped screaming and moved herself back into the corner.  
  
"Who are you, and where the hell did you come from? What are you doing here? What do you want?"  
  
She glared at him suspiciously as she hugged her knees to her chest.  
  
"Look, I'm here to help you, okay? I'm gonna try and get you all out of here."  
  
Suddenly the door crashed open and a group of men swarmed in. Darien turned just in time to see the butt of a gun come down on him.  
  
"Fawkes! Come in Fawkes! Dammit! Darien are you there? Hello? Aww Crap!"  
  
Bobby heard the muffled sound of a siren coming from inside the hotel. He dropped his second doughnut and scrambled into the driver's seat as men poured out of the doors.  
  
"Dammit!"  
  
Hobbes took off at a breakneck pace to the sounds of guns being fired and tyres screeching.  
  
"Come on baby, don't fail me now!" 


	2. Interrogation

Firstly, thanks for the feedback on the first chapter! I'm using a bit of artistic licence here. I've taken into account the fact that Darien doesn't need counteragent anymore, but I've chosen to ignore the fact that Jared Stark has been "fired", simply because it makes the story easier. ( So now, on with the show!  
  
**********************************************************  
  
Darien debated whether or not he should open his eyes, deciding that he might as well get it over with, since he would undoubtedly have to eventually. The instant he did, though, he regretted it. The harsh glare of the fluorescent lights met his eyes, increasing the pounding in his head and the apprehension in his mind. Lights like these never indicate anything good. He stood up, steadying himself on the simple metal chair bolted to the floor. His eyes scanned the small room, passing over the bare white walls and concrete and stopping on the huge mirror. But Fawkes knew better that to think it was just a normal mirror. He grinned into it and waved.  
  
"Uh. You guys wanna come get me out of here, or something?"  
  
The grey door to the right of the mirror opened and a tall man in a black suit walked in. Fawkes smiled and addressed the mirror again.  
  
"Thanks. I'll just be leaving now."  
  
"Sit down," the man instructed.  
  
Darien turned smoothly and sat down. He crossed his ankle over his knee, placed his hands behind his head and smiled.  
  
"Don't mind if I do."  
  
The man walked around Darien, finally stopping behind him.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"Ahhh, my friend. You see its not that important who I am. But what is important is who sent me," Darien told him.  
  
"And that would be?"  
  
"Stark."  
  
There was a moment of silence.  
  
"May I ask why Mr. Stark sent you here?"  
  
"To help with the women of course. He wants to move them all to a new location where it will be harder for those Government goons to find them," Fawkes explained.  
  
Another pause.  
  
"I see."  
  
Darien clapped his hands and stood up.  
  
"Good. So, you better let me out of here so I can finish my job, or I'll have to tell Stark that a bunch of idiots locked me in a room."  
  
Another, slightly shorter man walked into the room. The first man smiled.  
  
"Oh, I don't think you'll be telling Mr. Stark anything."  
  
Darien felt a prick in his neck and turned to see the other man holding an empty syringe. His eyes widened.  
  
"What was in that???" He demanded.  
  
But almost immediately, the feeling of terror was replaced by calm as he fell to the floor.  
  
**********************************************************  
  
Fawkes tried furiously to remember what had happened. It was strange, because he didn't remember being run over by a truck, but that's exactly how his head felt. He assessed his situation before opening his eyes, which had proved to be quite un-fun the last time he had tried it. He squirmed a bit and was surprised to find that he was lying on a bed. It was lumpy, but it was better than the metal chair. He tentatively peeked out from beneath his eyelids to be greeted (mercifully) by a dim beside table lamp.  
  
"Aw, crap."  
  
He sat up quickly, which proved to be a grave mistake, sending his head spinning. When his head stopped swimming and the little dots in front of his eyes stopped dancing, he was able to survey his surroundings from his vantage point on the bed. The salmon paint was peeling off the walls of the small room, the window was boarded up, and there were two wooden doors: one leading to the hallway and one leading to the adjoining room. It was the mirror image of the one he was in just a short time before. He felt the overwhelming need to verbalise his emotions at that particular point.  
  
"Aww, crap!"  
  
He was disappointed. Fawkes was sure that his little ploy would fool them; it had seemed convincing enough to him. But he must have underestimated them, or they wouldn't have stuck him in one of these damn rooms. Pretend to be Chrysali? What was he thinking? A sigh of resignation escaped his lips. Well, he had tried and failed, and now he had to deal with it. Darien stood up, intending to examine the room more closely, when he heard a quiet but resolute knock on the door. He walked to the far side of the room, pressed his ear up against the smooth timber and listened. He heard only silence, until the knocking came again, slightly louder, from the door leading to the other bedroom. He cocked an eyebrow.  
  
"Uhhh. Come in?"  
  
He heard a muffled laugh.  
  
"Well, it's a bit hard with the door locked, don't you think?"  
  
It was the girl he had seen before, the one with the ebony hair and the emerald eyes. He walked the short distance and kneeled in front of the door, sitting up on his heels.  
  
"I heard them bringing you in about twenty minutes ago. They said that you were sent to get us out. Is that true?" She asked the hope in her voice clearly evident.  
  
"It was. But whether or not I can get you out depends on whether or not I can get out."  
  
She sighed.  
  
"Well unless you can walk through walls, it looks like we'll both be staying."  
  
Darien mumbled, "Not necessarily."  
  
Darien stuck his hand into his jeans pocket to retrieve his lock picks. All he found was pocket fluff. He frowned in frustration. All of his pockets had been emptied.  
  
"Hey, umm." Darien paused, "Sorry, I don't even know your name."  
  
"It's Jenna. Jenna McGregory."  
  
"Oh, okay. Hey Jenna, do you have a hair pin on you?"  
  
"Nope, and if I did, I would have picked the lock and gotten out of here a long time ago. So what's your name?"  
  
He hesitated.  
  
"Uhh. Darien. Darien Fawkes."  
  
"Well it's a pleasure to meet you, Darien Fawkes." 


	3. A Misunderstanding

**********************************************************  
  
"So," Jenna's voice drifted through the wooden barrier, "do you have any ideas?"  
  
Darien rubbed the back of his neck in frustration.  
  
"Not really. Not until I can take a closer look at my room here. How about you?"  
  
"None. I was really hoping you had a great master plan hidden somewhere in your pocket. Or your hair," she added with a chuckle. He smiled.  
  
"Hey, don't knock it sister. Ninety percent of your body heat is lost through your head. I save thousands on my heating bills."  
  
"Forty nine percent of statistics are made up on the spot."  
  
"Touche."  
  
**********************************************************  
  
"I'm sorry, Agent Hobbes, I mustn't have been listening. For some reason I thought you just said that Fawkes has been captured by Chrysalis."  
  
"No sir, for once you actually were listening to me," Hobbes scowled, his fiery eyes meeting the stony, cold glare of the Official, "Fawkes has been captured and we need to get him back now. Who knows what those sick bastards could be doing to him? We don't have time to."  
  
The Official held up a hand, cutting short his rant.  
  
"Agent Hobbes! I am well aware of the urgency of this matter, but what I don't understand is how you could have let this happen! You go in with no backup, without informing either Eberts or myself, and with no clue as to what the situation is! Fawkes I might understand, but I expect better from you."  
  
"But sir, it was only going to be a quick check of the place. To gather intelligence!"  
  
"Nobody needs to gather intelligence more than you and Fawkes, I am sure," said the Official, pausing momentarily to let the double meaning sink in, "but from now on you will consult me before you go off on any 'intelligence gathering' outings."  
  
"So does that means I can organise a rescue party?"  
  
"Of course. Take the best men you can find. I want all of you to get in and out of there as quickly and safely as possible, which means getting Fawkes out, and no one else. You're there to get a federal agent out of the hands of the enemy, not to play white knight and rescue all of the damsels in distress. Let's leave that until we have gathered bit more 'intelligence' on the matter. Understood?"  
  
"Yessir."  
  
The Official nodded.  
  
"Good. Dismissed."  
  
**********************************************************  
  
"Jenna?" Darien asked, leaning back against the door with his arms hanging limply over his knees.  
  
"Yes, Darien?"  
  
"I'm going to try something okay. Now, don't let this freak you out or anything, its just so we can see each other."  
  
"Umm. okay."  
  
Darien slipped himself over so he was facing the door. He ran his hand along the frame, feeling the smooth wood under his fingertips, as he slowly released quicksilver into the crevice. Jenna gasped as the hypnotic silver crept through the door jamb and spread across, creating a square foot of shimmering, metallic liquid. Completely mesmerised, she reached out to touch it, when it suddenly disappeared, leaving in its place a very satisfied-looking Darien Fawkes. Jenna stared in awe.  
  
"Oh my God, how did you do that?" Darien shrugged.  
  
"Just a little party-trick I picked up off my brother."  
  
She reached forward again, but instead of encountering smooth, warm skin, she found what felt like a very cold, wooden door. She pulled her hand back, her face scrunched up in bewilderment. Darien chuckled.  
  
"Yeah, it has that affect on people."  
  
She turned her attention back to Fawkes.  
  
"So did you come alone or did Mr. Stark send backup?"  
  
Darien stopped and stared at her, his face unreadable.  
  
"I wasn't sent by Stark. I'm here to get you out."  
  
This time it was Jenna's turn to be silent. Darien watched as surprise, confusion, suspicion, understanding, and again surprise flashed across her features in quick succession like a machine gun firing wildly into the air. She hesitated and spoke, the uncertainty evident in her voice.  
  
"So, you weren't sent by Stark. You were sent by. the government? To get us out, right?"  
  
Darien paused, then nodded a smile coming over his face.  
  
"Yep. I'm a federal agent. We found out about how Chrysalis was holding women here to give birth to their children. I came to gather information, but since they caught me, I guess that means that my agency will have to come and break us all out of here."  
  
Jenna broke out in a wide grin.  
  
"Well that's. that's great! I can't believe it! After all this time, someone is finally going to get us out of here!"  
  
"Well, you better believe it! I'd hi-five you now if it weren't for this door," Darien declared.  
  
She smiled.  
  
"So, uh, Jenna," he began, his voice casual and nonchalant, "why did you think that Stark had sent me, if you knew I was going to try and help you escape?"  
  
She froze again.  
  
"Well," she answered a few seconds later, "I thought that maybe he had decided to let us go."  
  
Darien caught her eyes and held them. He nodded, never breaking eye contact.  
  
"Okay. Fair enough."  
  
He withdrew his gaze and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. He looked up at her and smiled.  
  
"Well, I'm still feeling a bit woozy from the drugs and that knock on the head. I think I'll go take a cat nap. Talk to you later."  
  
He went to stand up, but pulled back at the last instant.  
  
"Oh, and Jenna?"  
  
"Yes Darien?"  
  
"If you need anything, just knock."  
  
She smiled and nodded her thanks.  
  
Darien stood up and stretched his sore muscles, letting the quicksilver fall to the floor in a cascade of silver flecks. As he crashed onto the lumpy bead, he realised that this was probably not going to be one of his favourite stays at a hotel.  
  
"They don't even have room service," he muttered to himself as the comforting blanket of sleep settled onto his weary mind and shrouded his troubled thoughts. 


End file.
